Candle in the Wind
by Zen Monk
Summary: Things were lost and some events led up to even bigger spectacles. A series of vignettes of the aftereffects, the results, and the things that led up to what the characters in Persona 3 experienced.


Candle in the Wind

by Zen_monk

**Things were lost, and at the same time some things were gained. But we knew eventually what would happen. **

I find that while writing the lyrics, I kind of steered the content to fit into what the lyrics were talking about. Well, that's what I think anyway. But seriously, I think yesterday I was possessed by the song or something because I could never stop thinking about it. I also preferred this one over the 1997 one, but I listened to the original recording of this song

* * *

_Good-bye Norma Jean/ though I never knew you at all/ You had the grace to hold yourself/ While those around you crawled…_

Her casket was white and almost just four feet long. She was only around, maybe, three and a half, maybe more, by Akihiko's approximate. He was always good with numbers. Like how out of the twenty-five people, which consisted of three adults, two teenage volunteers, and twenty kids between four and twelve, only maybe half of them are actually sad, seeing how drawn their faces were and the red eyes that are repeatedly dabbed with handkerchiefs and tissues. The rest, the other children, just look bewildered and just barely grasping on the fact that one of them had died. Some even had really curious expressions, too. There was one boy, a little younger than himself, who made a loud whisper if he could touch one of the coffins. One of the volunteers immediately gave a harsh "Shhh!"

Akihiko turned around sharply behind him and glared at the boy, who shrank beneath his gaze. He turned back around in his seat and glanced next to him. Shinji's hands were clenched tightly, pink and pale.

_They made a promise!_ Akihiko thought viciously. _And now what are we going to do? _

What can he do?

All the anger disappeared in him, leaving him only queasy, sweaty emptiness within. He's not listening to the minister as he repeated complicated words from a big, black book, only remembering, and feeling, and knowing that his other half, his one proof that he wasn't a nobody, would never be there next to him the next day, and the next, and the next.

A sharp wind blew, stinging his cheeks, and he scrubbed his face with his hands.

When everyone woke up to bells ringing, he didn't register what the disaster was, what with his mind cottony with sleep. He remembered fast footsteps and doors being banged open and Matron bursting into his room, rousing the other boys and shaking some awake.

"_Everyone! Form a single line and follow me."_

"_What's wrong?" everyone asked. _

"_There's a fire happening on the other side of the building- Don't panic! Everyone stop! If we don't panic, we can get out quicker if you all just do what I say!"_

They put on their coats and exit out single file. Nobody talked. It was really hot in the hallways, and nobody talked. It was only when they went outside when they could see exactly how large the damage was, and how much in danger they were in.

Akihiko looked around was relieved when he saw Shinji in a line a couple rows away. But he looked around for the girls' lines and saw only a couple stood in awe instead of the usual lot.

He heard heavy things crashing and saw that one part of the building had collapsed. It was the girls' wing.

Ten died, and fifteen more are still recuperating in the hospital, in a place called the ICU.

He probably knew them all. He probably played with them and ate with them and was even friends with them. But what does he care? The only important one was having flowers placed on her by each person in black who got up from their seats and grabbed a flower from one of the bouquets.

It was his turn and he decided to place a yellow flower on it. She really liked the color yellow. She liked being out when it's sunny and running around in the park, on the swings, and weaving in and out of the jungle gym. She once made a crown of yellow flowers and placed them on Shinji's head. Only Miki can do that. Then she took hold of her pinky with his and promised that when they're all grown up they're going to be together in a big church and then they could all be a real family, or else he'll have to swallow a thousand needles. Shinji blushed, but he promised, and they all looked forward to that time that won't ever come when they're all a 'real' family.

What was only real now, on that sunny day when ten coffins lined up one by one to go to the big building where white smoke always billowed from that one long chimney, was that no matter how many hands held them down, no matter how loud he screamed, and no matter how much he cried and cried…

…He had never felt so small and worthless before than on that day when that fire took away his sister like dropping a curtain on a stage.

And he will never be brought down to that feeling ever again.

* * *

_They crawled out of the woodwork/ And they whispered into your brain/ They set you on the treadmill /And they made you change your name…_

It was a really long drive home. Minato was fading in and out of sleep, occasionally singing out to the songs on the radio and then falling back in a doze. He could hear his mother talking softly to his father and then some quiet laughing. He asked them what time it was and they said it was almost midnight. That means I stayed up late, he chimed, and his father chuckled and said that it's only this one time that he could stay up this late.

He dozed a bit more and saw half-formed images of many people with plates of food in a grassy backyard, some kids his age playing around with a Frisbee, meeting a real-life detective whom his mother told him was her uncle twice removed and that Minato-chan should call him uncle, too. He didn't know that uncles could be removed.

He heard something pierce the air and suddenly jerked to one side, his seat belt digging into his shoulder. His eyelids flew open and he heard a very loud and very short scream. He felt the car hitting against something hard, lunging him forward against his seat belt. Then everything rolled around like a topsy-turvy funhouse, and he wanted to throw up because his head hurt and there was something ringing in his ears.

He opened his eyes again. He thought he was dreaming. But it's weird; why is he upside down? He unbuckled his seat belt with a shaky hand. He saw that he had a long cut on it, but it didn't really hurt. He fell down on something hard and fuzzy, and he realized that it was the roof of the car. He called out for his mom and dad, but he couldn't hear himself. He tried again, but it sounded more like someone sighing. He looked ahead and saw that the window across from him was broken open. He crawled out. He took a deep breath through his nose and almost gagged; it smelled like something horrible was burning.

He got out and felt an immense wave of heat blowing over his back. He looked behind him and gasped when he saw fire on the bottom of their car. He quickly crawled away. He felt something sharp digging into his hands and so he sat on his knees and looked at them. Flecks of glass are imbedded into his palms. He brushed them off and then felt something stinging his knees. He forced himself up and found glass on them too, so he brushed them off. Mom would be angry when she saw his bloody knees and he could already feel the iodine on them.

Mom.

He turned around and looked at the car. It was sizzling and making popping sounds, like eggs on a frying pan when Mom made breakfast. He coughed and called out for his mother and father again, and he saw them still in their seats, upside down and beneath a fire. He took a few steps forward, but the fire blazed higher and he stopped, not wanting to get burned and too scared to get any closer.

He looked around to call for help, maybe find other adults or even better a policeman.

He noticed how quiet everything was.

The cars stood still. He couldn't see anyone in them, actually, and saw only the reflection of the moon on the windshields. He looked up. Since when was the sky green? Well, maybe not green. It's really dark, anyway. But the moon looked really big, and really yellow like a big wheel of Swiss cheese. He always knew it was made of cheese.

He felt a shiver run down his back and he rubbed his arms to generate heat. He wasn't really cold, even though it's November. But he could feel goose bumps rising on his legs and he felt like something was watching him.

He heard an enormous crash in front of him and down the bridge was something floating. It was black with a pale mask on, and it looked like it was made of rags and chains. He thought it was staring back at him. He thought it looked hungry. He opened his mouth but no scream came out.

He felt scared. It was an empty, sicky, echoing feeling that bounced around his stomach and turned his legs to stone. He saw something shot out from behind him, maybe a person, with flashing, yellow hair, and he saw the floating raggedy thing zoom closer to him. The last image he had was the white mask, with hollow empty eyes and a big smile, and he imagined that it was his own face.

He woke up to find people in cool medical suits and he bumping along on a white stretcher, and a siren filled his ears.

* * *

_And it seems to me you lived your life/ Like a candle in the wind/ Never knowing who to cling to/ When the rain set in/ And I would have liked to have known you /But / was just a kid/ Your candle burned out long before/Your legend ever did…_

He coughed as he staggered through the burning debris and lopsided ceiling lights blinking on and off. He flinched when a particular blaze erupted on one side, tripping and falling over something large. He looked out of his good left eye to see that it was the body of a scientist, his grin plastered for eternity on his face. He moved away from it in disgust, clutching his right eye tight when it throbbed from the sudden movement.

_Father_…

He finally made it to the doors of the experiment room and had to duck under a live cable when he passed the threshold. The fire raged with greater intensity here. He nearly slipped down the metal stairs and he made his way to the ground floor. More than once, he thought about why he had to venture deeper into the inferno, to where the heart of his father's malice lay in darkness, but what can he do? He still thought back to when his father pat him on the back in pride whenever he mentioned something pertinent to the research team. He was still haunted by him bent over a desk and scribbling notes, sometimes even muttering to himself.

Maybe, he just wanted to confirm to himself that the monster had perished in its den.

Then he saw it. Among the bodies with lab coats and broken pairs of glasses, he found the largest one of them all, lying in the middle of the lot like the figurehead of a band of thieves, the king of rats, the Citizen Kane in his Xanadu, half-buried in his jigsaw-puzzled notes and jagged bits of ceiling and glass tubes.

"Father," he whispered, and his good left eye cried.

*

_Loneliness was tough/ The toughest role you ever played/ Hollywood created a superstar/ And pain was the price you paid…_

He remembered how last week, he sat on the couch with his dad and his mom in the kitchen, the news came on about a scandal. He didn't really pay attention to it, just continued grinding his COMPstation Portable as he went up a level after his guy did a victory dance. He heard a strangled noise next to him, and he saw his dad turn white as a sheet.

"Honey? What's wrong?" asked his mother from the kitchen.

"My god…" he uttered.

Junpei remembered feeling confused, and heard his mother emerge from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag.

"Honey…?"

His dad got up from the couch, muttering to himself that he needs to find a lawyer and left the room. Junpei and his mom looked at each in confusion. He could see the tired shadows under her eyes and the marks on the back of her hand left by an IV as she continued wiping her hands. She broke away from their gaze to look at the television. She paled and put her hands to her mouth in dumb disbelief, the rag dropping on the floor. Junpei looked back at the screen and saw the picture of a man and a lot of Yen symbols.

…_Hiroyuki Takei, CEO of SUNergy Telemarkets, ran away with 100 billion yen after his secretary revealed to the police that the company, known for their promise of contributing solar panels and research into solar energy, was in fact one very large lie. With methods similar to what the West called the 'Ponzi scheme,' clients who invested in SUNergy's stock now find their assets to be worth next to zero. Those that were hit heaviest were those who wholeheartedly put all their savings into what was formerly expected to be the fastest growing 'green' company which, in the growing trend of finding alternative energy resources in a dropping economy, promised considerable projects dedicated to researching solar energy. Whether the authorities would be able to locate him and deliver swift retribution, or if those hundreds of thousands of people would ever get their money back, is left up in the air…_

* * *

_Even when you died/ Oh the press still hounded you/ All the papers had to say/ Was that Marilyn was found in the nude…_

Her mother half-dragged, half-led her to the car out of the real estate agency.

"Mommy! Stop… dragging me!" she cried out through gritted teeth.

Her mother sighed as she searched through her purse for her car keys. "Sorry, Yuka-tan, but Mommy's in a hurry to leave…"

"Why?" she asked in a plaintive whine.

Her mother breathed deeply through her nose, a sure sign that she was trying to gather her patience. "Because that… man," she said in a forcibly calm voice. "…should have his balls cut out."

Yukari scrunched her forehead in confusion. She got in the car on the passenger's seat and plopped down, causing air to poof out from beneath her. She giggled at the sound, but her mother gave a soft "Stopit" and stoppitted.

She stared at the passing scenery out of her window, feeling the quiet uncomfortable and feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She sneaked a glance at her mother and saw her concentrate on the road fiercely, her eyes shiny and her eyebrows hardened in a knot together.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"I'm fine. Just fine, honey," her mother said again in her forced-calm voice.

They stopped at a traffic light and, in attempt to see her smile, Yukari said quietly, "The next time I see him, I'm gonna kick him on the leg."

Her mother's eyes still shine a bit, but the knot lessened a little. "That's my girl. You're your daddy's girl…"

Suddenly, something splattered on the windshield, causing Yukari to scream and her mother to shout. It was an egg.

"What in the world-" her mother exclaimed and suddenly a scruffy man and woman ran up to the car and started banging on the hood.

"Murderer! Murderer! How can you live with yourself when you married a murderer!" screamed the woman.

"You fucking bitch! My family died because of your fucked-up husband! What gave you the right to drive around in your fancy new car!" bellowed the man.

Yukari shrank down in her seat, scared stiff and her voice robbed. The couple splattered more eggs on the car, as well as bits of garbage and when they ran out they started punching the windows as though they were going to break them.

"Leave me alone!" yelled her mother, her tense face broken and her voice raw.

"Not until we get what's due! All the fires! All the collapsed buildings! The dead children! It's all on your heads!"

The light turned green and Yukari felt herself shove back into her seat as her mother slammed on the gas pedal. The couple, fortunately, weren't run over as they were on her mother's side of the car, but as she looked back, she could hear them shouting that they "-Almost died! That bitch tried to run us over! Help! Police!"

They got onto the highway and passed by three exits until they went down the familiar route to their house. They parked on the street opposite their house, and their dwelling still had graffiti and toilet paper all over it. Her mother made no move to get out; neither did she. She saw her shoulders shake, and then she leaned against the steering wheel and cried.

Yukari was stunned. She thought grown-ups never cried, but she had a feeling that her mother was doing that for a while, behind the closed bedroom door or after she was dropped off to daycare. But to actually see her cry, to see someone so big and loving and beautiful transfigure into something with thin hair and pale skin and tears streaming down her thin cheeks, she wanted to cry, too.

"Mommy," she began. "When's dad coming home?"

* * *

_And it seems to me you lived your life/ Like a candle in the wind/ Never knowing who to cling to/ When the rain set in/ And I would have liked to have known you /But / was just a kid/ Your candle burned out long before/Your legend ever did…_

Ken woke up with a start and glanced at his Featherman clock next to him. It was almost midnight. He jumped out of bed and silently opened the door. He tiptoed down the carpeted hallway to the kitchen. Once there, he saw the blue glow of a computer screen and froze, half-hidden by the doorframe.

"Ken? Is that you?"

He came forward sheepishly and said, "I thought I was being quiet…"

His mother took a sip from her mug and sighed. "No matter how quiet you are your mother will always hears you."

He opened the refrigerator door and took out a carton of milk. He pulled up a chair from the kitchen table and got his glass from the cabinet. "That's kind of scary," he remarked. "It reminded me of that one episode when Phoenix Featherman was being watched by the Other Mother monster through the glass marbles she gave him."

"I thought that show was very educational; it makes kids think twice about getting another mother," said his mom wryly. "So? What's wrong? Couldn't sleep?"

Ken popped open the microwave and pulled out his warm milk. He pulled his chair next to his mother and grabbed a coaster. "No. I just woke up. I had a weird dream."

"How weird?"

"Well, I dreamt that I was trapped in a big blue wheel and I was spinning up into space. Only, I wasn't spinning like a helicopter, but kind of sideways. Like a tornado."

"_Really_."

"Really. And I was in the wheel like my hamster wheel, but I wasn't running in it. It's like I was attached to it from my head down to between my legs. It was kind of weird, but it wasn't scary."

His mother tapped a pen against her cheek thoughtfully and said, "That's it. I think it's too much TV for you." She shut off her laptop and stood up. "I think it's time that tomorrow we're going to have a run through the park."

"But what about your work?" Ken asked.

His mother looked to one side and muttered, "Wow, this kid…" She turned back to him and replied proudly, "Well, I think that we're too attached to some things, like TV and work. I think it would be great for both of us if we just play around town and look around for once. You know, smell the roses every once in a while."

He smiled and nodded. "Sounds great, Mom! Now remember; you promised."

She held up her right hand and crossed her heart. "Crossed my heart and hoped to die."

Ken gave an enormous yawn, though he tried to stifle it. "Aw, look at you," cooed his mother. "If we're going to have fun we need all our energy. Come on, it's off to bed with you." She took him under the arms and carried him to his room.

"Mooooom… I'm too *yawn* big to be carried," he said sleepily.

"Nonsense; even if you're ten feet tall you're still going to be my little man."

Before Ken drifted off, he thought he heard a sharp noise, like a gunshot.

* * *

_Goodbye Norma Jean/ From the young man in the 22nd row/ Who sees you as something more than sexual/ More than just our Marilyn Monroe… _

Takeharu bid his secretary and bodyman to go and sat down in his swivel chair in his study. He leaned back and rubbed his forehead, sighing as thought a weight has lifted, leaving him feel his emptiness. He tugged at his tie and dropped it on his desk. He ran his hands through his hair, tousling it and mussing it up. He remembered softer, slender hands doing that once upon a time, and he cursed himself for remembering.

So he remembered something else.

After the funeral service was over, he chatted idly with some important people offering their condolences, seeing in their eyes that while they were sympathetic they had that look that said, "_Finally_" and he resisted the urge to snap at them. It was known for a long time that his wife, Eimi, probably wouldn't cling to life any farther, as the time she lingered in the sanitarium grew longer and she grew even smaller and frailer. But to the last of her days, even after her last nervous breakdown caused her the heart attack and eventually slipped into a coma because of a following stroke, she always looked at him like she did when they first met in college: bright, kind, and full of spirit.

Even though their parents believed that their first meeting was at the omiai planned between the two families, it was actually during their spring semester at their second year at Hitotsubashi, when right after rowing practice, he bumped into her, when she was with her swim team, and they exchanged glances.

As he saw how a woman can be both spontaneous and gentle at the same time.

But after the funeral service, he was looking for Mitsuru when she saw him with Sanada, yelling at him passionately, being in a state so unlike her that he had second thoughts on whether it was her. But it was; same bright red hair she got from her mother thrashing in the wind. Same black, designer clothes she wore for the funeral. And what would Akihiko Sanada being doing here anyway if he wasn't here for Mitsuru?

The wind carried away the words, so he never knew what it was he should be hearing, but he had a good guess on what it is.

Mitsuru stopped her tirade on the poor boy and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking violently and almost bending double. The boy looked understandably at a loss at what to do, but when he looked at her, really looked at her, he scratched the back of his head in an awkward way and reached out to touch her shoulder. She slowly drew into him almost by instinct and he held her, a faraway pain etched on his face as he thoughtlessly stroked her hair.

They didn't see him, so he decided to back away and mull over on what he had seen. Naturally, he felt a little alarmed at how familiar the boy was to his daughter, but he also realized that that was the first time she ever seemed close, had ever revealed herself in such a way to one other person. He sometimes worried whether she actually got along well with other people, ever since she began elementary school, given that her childhood was anything but normal. Sometimes, he was afraid that if he looked deeper, really see closer, she would also be twisted by the curse that his father left on his legacy.

He turned around on his chair and looked out of the window thoughtfully. He couldn't decide whether that brief glimpse at Mitsuru being herself with other people was a good thing or a bad thing, since it was to a boy of all people and not a psychiatrist or a teacher as he thought it would be, but he does know that everyday she's reminding him more about his wife, and he was always glad that there's still a little bit of good and a little bit of the happiness they had shared left in the world.

* * *

It's been ten years, but he's coming back to the place where things ended and things began. He lived there happily, and left with tears in his eyes. For ten years, he carried the stigma and awe of being an orphan, of living out the child-centric fantasy of having a life without parents. Personally, the glamour wore off and he was able to move on. The fact never moved on, but what can he do? Tell them that he grieved and that it's time to move on.

He looked out of the train window at the city's silhouette at dusk. He watched buildings and skyscrapers light up one by one like incongruent Christmas trees and he thought that his homecoming felt better than he expected. He was tired but he couldn't help but feel a slight excitement at being back from being tossed around by his family.

His last residence, at the estate where his uncle who was removed for a second time lived as an advising detective, was enjoyable though a little lonely given how empty a large estate with only three people including himself and not including maids and manservants to live in. But once he studied for high school entrance exams, when he saw Gekkoukan next to Iwatodai, he felt drawn to it, and like a newly born geek researched in every which ways. He bid his makeshift family good bye, packed his bags, and headed for the city he was born in. They were worried about whether he'll adjust, but he assuaged them by saying he'll always bounce back up.

_And it seems to me you lived your life/ Like a candle in the wind/ Never knowing who to cling to/ When the rain set in/ And I would have liked to have known you/ But I was just a kid/ Your candle burned out long before/ Your legend ever did…_

He fiddled with his mp3 player around his neck, and watched as the last few seconds of the song ticked to zero. He pressed the playback button and watched as the four minutes began to tick down.

_Good-bye, Norma Jean/ Though I never knew you at all/ You had the grace to hold yourself/ While those around you crawled…_

He wondered if anything exciting will happen there.


End file.
